Cora Hale (impulsivewolf) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-01-20 20:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, cora hale, john constantine |
Who: John Constantine & Cora Hale
Where: A Fashion Show
When: Thursday Night (1/17)
What: John’s on a case and looking for leads/Random meeting
Status: Complete
Warnings: Language
John took a drag on his cigarette and looked towards the venue. An upper class hangout where rich women with more money than sense splashed out on outfits that only looked good if you were a size 0. He’d never understand it as long as he lived. At least tonight the guy he was looking for actually had a legitimate reason to be there as he was banging one of the models. Which was why his wife had hired John to capture their tryst for probable use in her divorce settlement. One way or another he owed his living to the pre-nup - Long Live America! Throwing the dead butt onto the pavement and grinding it underfoot he made his way to the door and showed the bouncer his (almost entirely official) invite. “Thanks buddy,” he nodded as he headed inside, feeling about as out of place here as he had in the drug-dens of Liverpool. Still, it was a job. The wife-in-question had told him which seats her husband had procured for tonight and at what price. Personally John wouldn’t be seen dead paying thousands of pounds in order to watch emancipated pre-teens parade around in skimpy outfits but he had far more morality and much less money that Mr. Gough. And there he was, right where he was supposed to be, looking like he might be about to dribble champagne at any moment. Christ. The only problem he had now was keeping track of the guy. During the show was easy but once it was over Gough would be backstage and on heat in ten seconds flat and that meant it was where John needed to be. He moved to the edges of the room, watching the entrances and exits until he spotted technical staff moving from one area to another in preparation for the show. Good. Now he had a goal. John summoned every bit of arrogance he possessed and bustled towards the door as if he had every right in the world to be there and was almost free and clear when he came face to face with a tall brunette. “Darling, why aren’t you ready?” he asked, putting on his best Kensington and Chelsea accent. “It’s almost showtime!” * Show days were both fun and hectic all rolled into one and Cora loved every minute of it. If she didn’t, then she wouldn’t be doing this for a living. She had been getting ready when somebody caught her eye. There was just something about him that set alarm bells going off in her head. That’s when she got up and made her way towards him. “You don’t work here,” she flat out said the moment she was close enough the creeper. “Who are you and what are you doing back here?” Staff had been dressed a certain way and he did not fit the look and he gave off creeper stalker vibes. It wouldn’t be the first time a stalker or a rabid fan got backstage. * Well that went well, for all of five seconds. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one, offering the pack to the chick John figured had to be modeling here. “Technically speaking I’m working here,” he told her slipping back into his rough Liverpudlian drawl. He pulled out his wallet and handed her his card. “See that guy there? Centre-front, entirely conspicuous by being the only non-celebrity male around the gold-zone?” John didn’t know the technical term for it but his research had taught him designers put celebs and their best clients in the best seats, to show them off as much as the clothes. “Well it turns out his wife objects to him shopping around for the second Mrs. Gough without breaking up with her first,” and the fact that the second Mrs. Gough was old enough to be his daughter… or even granddaughter, if you were talking specifics here. “So how about we pretend you and I didn’t have this meeting and you go your way and I’ll go mine and we’ll both get paid at the end of the day?” * With disgust, Cora snatched the cigarette, dropped it to the ground and stomped it out. “No smoking,” she told him before taking the card that was handed to her next. She read over quickly before looking back up at the guy. Okay, so he was a private investigator, that didn’t mean he was allowed to lurk around backstage. She listened as he explained who he was following and why, but really in the end she didn’t care. “How about you turn around and get the hell out of here?” She would find security if she had to, but she was being nice right now. “If you want to spy on that creep, do it out there,” he said as she pointed to the front of the house, “Just not back here.” * John watched in horror as the woman snatched his tab from his fingers and crushed it. Great. He’d discovered the only model in history who didn’t smoke to keep her weight down. “Bet you wouldn’t have treated a joint so cruelly,” he muttered as he tucked his pack back into his coat pocket. “Wish I could oblige, luv, but my prey isn’t going to smooch with his lady-love out there, is he?” John pointed out. “What’s your name sweetheart?” he asked in a softer tone. “Try and imagine yourself in the esteemed Mrs. Gough’s place. She’s a lovely lady - former model herself, as it happens,” and easy on the eye too, though John thought it wise to keep that piece of information to himself. “She marries him, supports him and raises a kid with him but,” he leaned up against the wall, “and here’s the kicker. The pre-nup states catagorically that she can’t take any of his earnings until they’ve reached the seven year mark. Now the term’s almost up the lying creep’s back on your turf attempting to screw her out of her well-earned wifely rewards.” John bent forwards, more conspiratorially now, “unless the worm’s caught cheating with definitive proof. That’s where I come in. Now, how about you let me past?” he suggested with a raise of his eyebrows, “for the sisterhood?” * Cora didn’t respond to what the guy said. The look on her face said more than words could right now. “Don’t call me sweetheart. And it’s Cora.” She listened and it sucked for Mrs. Gough, but that didn’t mean this guy could just waltz around backstage like he actually belong. Because he didn’t. “For the sisterhood?” She raised an eyebrow on him. “Do you know how catty these bitches can be?” They weren’t all like that, but she had run into her fair share of them. Sighing, she glanced around. “Fine. Do your little spy thing. But if I were you, I’d try to blend in a little better. If security catches you, they’ll throw you out of here so fast and then you’ll be without your money shot.” * He held his hand up at her reprimand. Clearly independent American models didn’t approve of British endearments. John could handle that and at least he had a name with which to address her now, which left him ahead of the game. “Well, Cora, it is lovely to meet you. Call me John,” he said, just in case she hadn’t bothered to get that far in his card. He couldn’t help but raise an amused eyebrow at her terminology - a woman after his own heart, if he were honest. “Are they that bad?” he asked, though the venom she’d used gave him more information than he needed there. When Cora spoke next he was a little surprised. Having been busted so early in his investigations John had expected to be skulking around fire exits in order to slip inside when the models took smoke-breaks. A glimmer of an idea put a glint in his eye as he smiled Cora’s way. “How about we help each other out?” John suggested in tones of conspiratorial eloquence any grifter would have been proud of. “You help me fit in by allowing me to accompany you behind the velvet curtain and I’ll cut you in for 10% of Mrs. Gough’s commission on any evidence we discover. Call it payback to the catty bitches that came before you?” John suggested holding his hand out to shake on the deal. * Cora hadn’t read the card, but she still held it in her hand. “Alright, John…” She shrugged her shoulders a little. “Not all of them are, but some of them can get damn right bitchy over nothing.” Did Cora want to help him out? It wasn’t like she needed the money, but it did sound kind of fun to help him out. “Okay,” she reached out and grabbed a hold of John’s hand, “I’ll help you,” she said as she shook his hand. “Only because I’m hoping this guy is sucking face with one of the catty bitches.” Payback was always fun. * That was definitely information John could use if the need arose and he was already grateful enough to Cora to invite her out for a coffee some time. That and she was clearly softening up to him, though using his name wasn’t a signal for lifelong friendship, he’d take any slice of light in this tunnel. “So they’re easily provoked, are they?” Good to know. Had John expected Cora to take his hand? Not even for a second. Had he hoped? God, yes! “I think that makes partners in crime,” he said with a sly smile. “So, Cora, “how about you show me around this place so I can get familiar with it?” John was slightly concerned about making his next suggestion, given the brevity of their meeting and the vibe of giving no shits the woman gave off. Still, if she was into riling up catty bitches… “So, here’s a thought,” he said as he gave her a side-wards smirk, “we could easily drag our mark out into the open if you invited Mr. Gough to the after-party and showed interest.” John hadn’t anticipated having a female companion along for this mission but since he did, why not truly fuck with the cheating bastard? “What will follow is a lover’s tiff that, if I can plant a listening device on the man,” and John could definitely do that, “we’ll have us irrefutable evidence of the affair. You game?” * “Some of them can be.” Cora wasn’t sure if she was giving him a warning or just giving him a piece of information that he’ll use somewhere down the line. Oh well, it wasn’t her problem. “I guess so.” She smiled before she started to walk, showing him around. “What thought are we having?” Cora listened to John’s idea and she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to get that involved in it. “I don’t know. I would still have to deal with whoever this guy is cheating on with after you are long gone.” She already dealt with enough bitchy people. Did she need to add another to the list? Fuck it. “I can try to lure him at the after party. Can’t promise anything.” * “Probably the lack of food,” he murmured as Cora led him past a group of girls that looked as though they shared a bag of crisps a week, at most. “I know I’d be a grumpy bastard without fast food,” John looked Cora’s way and smiled. “Present company excepted.” She looked positively blooming with health compared to soom of the women around this place. Which was, in no way John calling her fat. God forbid. Now he had time to look at her she was actually a knock-out, but he reminded himself to keep his mind on the job. “Hey, I totally understand if you’d rather not,” John said with a shake of his head, “they’ll be other ways, if you don’t want to get so wrapped up in this,” he assured Cora with a nod. She had to work with these people when he was free and clear of this scene. He stopped and turned to her, “contrary to current perceptions I’m not a total sleaze,” John told her with a frown. “I won’t ask you to put yourself in that position, or any other, if you don’t feel comfortable. Not all men are utter Weinsteins,” he said with a twitch of his head. “It was a thought - I have them sometimes - if you’d rather not then that is your decision, Cora,” he stated with a nod. Luckily thoughts were things John had many of and most got him to the end point eventually, though it might take a little more time. “Get him to the party and I’ll take it from there,” he suggested. The bug would expose any conversations with Cora’s workmates and more than likely take care of exposing the mistress too.” * Cora snickered. “Good thing I like to eat.” There was no way in hell she would starve herself. She liked her food far too much. “Hey, I said I would help. I don’t know how far I’ll go along with it. But if you need to get that guy alone, I’m pretty sure I can get him away from the crowd.” If that’s what John needed, she could more than likely do it. But she wasn’t going to lead the idiot on. She didn’t want it to go that far. Buts he figured whoever he was seeing would get jealous enough at the fact that they are even talking. And not just talking, but talking away from the crowd. If she pulled it off. “Okay, I think I’ve pretty much shown you every inch of backstage that you’ll be allowed to walk through. Need anything else?” If not, she needed to finish getting ready. * “In that case, when the work here’s done, how about I buy you dinner to say thank you for not busting my ass back to the pavement the moment you spotted me,” John suggested with a grin. Cora had spirit and he liked that about her. That and she didn’t behave like the rest of the prize-ponies strutting around backstage. He was a little taken aback that she hadn’t taken the opportunity to run like all hell at the offer and John appreciated that. “So long as you understand I need a partner here, not a call-girl,” he said gently. “If he gets inappropriate in any way I’ll break his arm,” and maybe a few other parts that would have him rethinking his life-choices for the foreseeable future. “And be careful, Cora,” John said softly, “people with money have a tendency to think it buys them anything.” “I don’t get to see the changing rooms?” John asked, managing to keep a straight face for a few seconds before he grinned Cora’s way. “Thank you. For everything,” he shook her hand one more time. “I’ll be here, waiting, when you’ve finished and break a leg,” he said with a smile. * “I say dinner sounds good.” Hey, if he was buying then there was no way in hell she was going to turn it down. “It better be good,” she said, smiling at him. “I understand because if you needed a call-girl I would be kicking you out right about now.” She half smiled. “Now that I would pay to see.” What? There was nothing wrong with a little bit of violence. Especially when the person deserved it. “Aww,” she gave him a pat on the arm, “How sweet. You think I don’t know how these people are. Trust me, I know. I’ve been around people like that my whole life.” She shook her head. “No, you don’t get to see the dressing rooms, perv.” She shook his hand once again. “You’re welcome. Don’t get caught while I’m gone.” She smiled at him one last time before taking off for the show. |